Amaranth Astrapia Analysis

There, perched lifelessly in his cage, sat an Amaranth Astrapia. Its feathers gleamed as if they were embedded with polished rubies. Its robe of stars glistened like candlelight beaming upon delicate appointments of crystal and silver. With infinite precision he watched Agatha, his beady red eyes fixed heavily upon her as she edged onward. She faltered, only for a brief instance, and presently took a deep breath; assuring herself that it was only a harmless bird. Surely it won’t do me any harm, she thought. A curiosity soon took the place where fear had previously been, and she crept up for a better look. Upon closer view, the bird reminded Agatha of one her Aunt Theresa had once possessed. Hers, of course, wasn’t an Amaranth Astrapia—those

She had obtained an immense interest in the species from the information she gathered in Helmuth’s book. The Amaranth Astrapia , it read, was a Bird of Paradise type first classified by the prominent German explorer Berthold Brinkerhoff; he brought one back to Berlin with him from his expedition through an island jungle—somewhere off the coast of New Guinea. He was known to have written a passage in his journal testifying that the feathers of the Astrapia were believed by the inhabitants to contain some sort of magical property. Witches were said to have used them in recipes to conjure potions for healing, or fashioned them as ornaments on their headdresses as charms for good luck. Now, aside from being practically worshiped as benevolent spirits and deities in their native lands, the Amaranth Astrapia had received a considerable amount of attention in far less primal parts of the world as well. It was stated in a text, near a very hansom picture, that the bird was best recognized for being, foremost, a bird of brilliant attraction and secondly possessing the ability to whistle pieces from renowned German opera (most notably Hugo Wolf’s ‘Der Corregidor’, which was exceptionally popular around the time of the birds discovery in 1896). If taught properly the bird could also be inclined to recite the

Not entirely. Do you like puzzles?”

“I HATE puzzles! I despise, I detest, I HATE, HATE, HATE them! Puzzles require thinking and thinking makes my head hurt!”

“Any great amount of thinking is sure to make ones head hurt after awhile, but that’s no reason to bear ill-will against anything that puts your mind to the test. Perhaps you’ve heard of Houdini, yes? Oh, but he’s a sensational magician who’s best known for his incredible escape acts. Just last month, my parents took me to Berlin to witness his escape from a Chinese water torture cell. And he’s preformed all kinds of other escapes as well! Earlier this year in New York, for instance, he was locked in handcuffs and leg-irons, then nailed into a crate. The crate was weighed down heavily by lead and lowered into a river where Houdini escaped within seconds. I can’t remember the precise time, but it was within seconds after being in the water, I’m sure. After every performance his audience is perpetually left speechless, their minds too busied trying to get around how he carried out the impossible task with such ease. But that’s what makes puzzles so fun. They’re fantastic enigmas that need solved, and who doesn’t appreciate the thrills of a good mystery when surprises await you at every